


Sensation

by PoppyAlexander



Series: Johnlock ficlets [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Sherlock has sex with all five senses, Wall Sex, sniff kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:52:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5370896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoppyAlexander/pseuds/PoppyAlexander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"when he draws John in, he is taking, he is claiming, and John braces himself"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sensation

…for several long minutes (to John, it feels like hours, agonising, ecstatic) Sherlock has been exploring John’s different aromas and textures and the direction his hair grows and the way the vein on the back of his wrist shifts when Sherlock’s hand envelops his, bending and flexing, finding the limits of torsion and resistance.

Their clothes are a trail across the lounge to the heap on which Sherlock kneels—John’s trousers and pants, Sherlock’s shirt with its monogrammed cuffs—here in the hallway by the kitchen, they never made it to the bedroom before John’s back was to the wall and Sherlock’s face now, the long, narrow plank of his cheek, dragging, sliding, impossibly slow, upward and around from the back of John’s knee, up the inside of his thigh to the front where Sherlock uses the tip of his nose to draw a vertical line up along John’s quadriceps. John gulps a loud, “ _Uhh_ ,” head thrown back against the wall, eyes tight,  _allowing_  Sherlock,  _letting_  Sherlock, accepting, welcoming, respecting Sherlock’s curiosity, his need, always Sherlock’s need…

The skin of Sherlock’s face, mostly smooth, sandpapery on his chin and above his lip because now it’s evening, continuing its slow drag up and across, sharp inhalations through his nose a sensation of cool, and then the gust of moist warmth through his parted lips, and Sherlock’s tongue darts out to moisten his mouth all the way to the corners, and when he draws John in he is  _taking_ , he is _claiming_ , and John braces himself with his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders, feels the way the ropey cables of Sherlock’s trapezius muscles clench and roll as his head drifts forward and back atop his graceful, gorgeous, pale neck.


End file.
